


Angel Cookies & Empty Pages

by noxsoulmate



Series: Angel Cookies [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Parenthood, Prompt Fic, Shameless Smut, Slice of Life, Smut, Talking, Writer's Block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxsoulmate/pseuds/noxsoulmate
Summary: Christmas time is drawing closer and with that, Cas and Dean’s one year anniversary. But before Cas can really get into the Christmas spirit, he needs to get over this massive writer’s block, which prevents him from finishing his latest draft and thus from fully enjoying Christmas time. Thankfully, Dean has two very opposite ideas that just might help him get past it – giving him not only exactly what he needs but also opening his eyes to a life-altering revelation…
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Angel Cookies [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/883092
Comments: 13
Kudos: 141





	Angel Cookies & Empty Pages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wisconsennach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wisconsennach/gifts), [LeaveMeAlone_ImReading](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeaveMeAlone_ImReading/gifts).



> Hello and welcome to the first of five little one-shots set in the Angel Cookie Verse 😇🍪
> 
> All of these little slices of life are based on prompts one or two of my lovely readers gave me and I really hope you'll all like what I made of them.
> 
> Many more prompts exist and I plan on using a lot more of them - maybe for future timestamps, maybe even for a sequel 😉 I'm also always open to new/further suggestions or wishes of what all you would still like to see in this universe. Simply click [here](https://forms.gle/xXX6cUXam8qbqczH6) and let me know 💖
> 
> Now, have fun with our little peek into the boy's future. All five timestamps play about a year after AC and LC.
> 
> Enjoy 😘 
> 
> **Prompts:**  
>  _Wisconsennach:_ “Love to see writer's block Cas and how Dean deals with it. Domestic bickering/fluff/smut”  
>  _LeaveMeAlone_ImReading:_ “Will happily read anything, as long as Dean and Cas are together. Love, love, and more love! (and smut)”

__

_You can’t think yourself out of a writing block; you have to write yourself out of a thinking block._

~ John Rogers

**Thursday, 29th of November 2018**

Cas stared at the blank page in front of him.

The bright white of the page glared back.

And that damn cursor taunted him, flashing in and out. In and out. In and out.

In and out.

In and–

With decidedly too much force, Cas slapped his laptop shut, huffing in annoyance.

He sensed movement, saw it in the corner of his eye, but ultimately ignored it as he put his hands together, resting his chin on his linked fingers. Staring straight ahead he had a very good view of… the fridge. Damn, maybe he shouldn’t have sat at the kitchen island with his back to the window. Perhaps he should have moved over to the couch and sat there – at least there he would have been comfortable and he would have been able to stare out one of the windows now. Maybe let the view over the ranch soothe him. Watch some birds or whatever… anything really to calm him. But no, he had wanted to sit at the kitchen counter. To be closer to Dean as he pottered around doing - well, whatever it was that he was doing.

So instead of looking out over a scenic view, he was looking at the calendar on the fridge. The one that mocked him with its passage of time and Gracie’s sticker collection that marked off the days – and now that he _saw the fridge_ , he could also _hear_ _the fridge_ and it was going to… Drive. Him. _Insane_. His eyes flicked to the clock, the _tick, tick, tick_ of the second hand as it made its way around the face added itself to the burden that continued to press on his shoulders. Five pm. It was already five in the evening and he hadn’t written a damn word all day. Gracie would be home in less than two hours and _why were there no fucking words coming to him_? Why was this so damn hard? Why was–

“Hey! Cas!”

A hand appeared in his line of view, fingers snapping right in front of his nose.

“Cas, you with me?”

Without turning and looking at his boyfriend, he grumbled, hoping it would be taken in a positive light.

A face soon replaced the hand, and as it was so close, Cas needed to readjust his focus to what was right in front of him instead of the clock across the room.

A smattering of freckles, some of them so light Cas sometimes felt the urge to kiss every single one of them to make sure they were still there.

Beautiful green eyes, the warmth they always carried tinged with concern.

Sinful lips, pulled up to one side in a teasing smile that was not quite able to cover the true worry.

“Words still not coming to you?” Dean asked, his voice full of sympathy.

“Mhh,” Cas grumbled out, too irritated to even speak. 

He was used to finishing his drafts last minute – hell, sometimes he even believed he needed that rush of adrenaline to truly hand in great drafts. But this writer’s block felt different… he’d had to deal with them before, mild ones, stretches of a few days, maybe even weeks without a word written. Those times were usually filled with research he would absolutely, totally, definitely need for when he finally got to that point in the plot. Maybe. Probably.

But at this point, no amount of research-based procrastination would save him. It was the end of November and Zar wanted his first draft in the first week of January – as he usually did – and Cas was still missing ten chapters.

Ten

Whole

Damn

Chapters

They weren’t even disposable chapters, chapters of filler or burgeoning plot. No! It was the damn climax of the book and its aftermath. It was not something to just get down within six weeks. Especially not when he also wanted to spend some quality time with the people he loved.

He couldn’t even pinpoint exactly _why_ he was suffering this particular block.

The smile on those sinfully beautiful lips in front of him slowly disappeared, replaced by a notion of sympathy.

“Anything I can do for you?”

“Mhh,” Cas grumbled again. He didn’t _want_ to react like this. But his mood was terrible right now and as much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t easily pulled out of these moods and–

Soft lips were pressed to the corner of his mouth. For a moment, he wanted to resist – not because he didn’t want the kiss, but because he _wanted_ to stay grumpy and moody – but that soon melted as those lips moved to cover his in full, a tongue tantalizingly brushing over his bottom lip, seeking permission. As he gave it – and while that tongue began to reverently explore his mouth – his elbows were gripped and the spinning top of the chair beneath him began to turn. Unable to fully resist any longer, he put up no fight when those strong hands fell to grip his hips and a warm body pushed between the spread of his legs. His own hands went to rest against Dean’s chest, slipping down to caress ticklish sides as his fingers delved beneath the soft cotton top to playfully skim against the surface of warm, tanned skin.

Rough hands cupped his face tenderly and the kiss deepened as they swayed closer to one another. His eyes fluttered shut as he gave himself fully to the wonderful man in his arms, sinking into the feeling of his warmth and closeness. 

He didn’t stop the hands that wandered over him, didn’t stop his own urges to explore the beautiful body in front of him. The one which he could never get enough of seeing, feeling, tasting, _touching_. 

He could not ignore the tender fingers gliding up his side and back, moving to grip the back of his head, playing with all his sensitive areas along the way. He was already half-hard in his pants and he could feel he wasn’t the only one.

It came as no surprise when he was pushed out of the chair and pulled down the hallway, toward their bedroom. The door was barely closed behind them before he was pushed against it, caged in by two strong arms and a lean body. Those tender lips were back on him, mapping out the contours of his neck and all Cas could do was rest his head against the wooden door and sigh with bone-deep contentment.

God, he had missed this.

“No wonder you have a hard time writing.”

The words seemed to come from far away, breathed into his skin in a low and rumbling voice.

“You’re far too tense.”

“I think the word you were looking for is ‘aroused’,” Cas panted, breathy and already so close to being delirious.

The answering husky chuckle made the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck dance and he was unable to suppress a shudder as a shiver ran down his spine, his fingers once again slipping beneath the soft shirt to dig into the supple skin right in front of him.

“In that case…”

He had no idea what drove him more wild, the husky voice, the promise it held, or the warm lips grazing his earlobe.

“Let me take care of both.”

Their kiss began anew and he eagerly reciprocated, pretending not to notice those sure and steady hands undressing both of them. It was only when the kiss ended and he wasn’t caged against the door by a warm presence anymore that he finally opened his eyes.

The sight in front of him was one he would never tire of, he had no doubt in that.

Dean was smiling at him in that most tender way of his. That smile which promised him Heaven on Earth and yet seemed to hold all the secrets of a sensual Hell. It was full of love and contentment and yet it teased mirthfully.

It was the smile Dean wore whenever he was at his happiest.

The smile he wore whenever he looked at Cas.

Taking the hand Dean held out for him, he let himself be pulled to the bed and he lay down as Dean silently instructed. Settled on his stomach, he made himself comfortable as Dean typed something on his phone. A moment later, soft rock music was playing in the background.

Grinning into his arm, Cas held in his chuckle. Only Dean would put on classic rock when about to give an erotic massage. But the type of music Dean chose would never matter – because no one gave a massage as amazing as Dean Winchester.

The bed dipped and he was jostled for a moment until he felt Dean’s legs settle either side of his. Warm breath ghosted up his spine, goosebumps following in its wake, until soft lips were pressed against his shoulder blades.

“Mhhhhh,” he moaned into his arms.

Yes, he truly _had_ missed this. Did so anytime he stayed in New York, though it didn’t happen often anymore. Officially he did still live there, and he had to help his aunt at the publishing house from time to time. Then there were the occasional meetings with his editor…

Sometimes it was a few days, sometimes – like this time – a few weeks. 

He had arrived back in Stars Hollow last night and the evening had been spent watching movies with Gracie until they all had almost fallen asleep on the couch. And so there hadn’t really been any intimate reunion with Dean yet.

No wonder he was so tense as Dean had put it.

Smiling to himself, he finally let go of all thoughts outside of their bubble. There was nothing else but Dean and him, classic rock, the light scent of almond oil, soft lips on his skin, and sure hands running down his sides.

As Dean settled back, positioning himself on Cas’ thighs – snug against his butt – the scent of almond oil grew more intense and he could hear Dean rubbing his hands together before they found their way to his shoulder blades.

Groaning, Cas melted into his touch and let himself sink further into the soft bed. It never took long for Dean to find all his tense spots, kneading them with just the right amount of pressure. 

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean murmured, after how long Cas was unable to say. “It really _has_ been a while since your last massage.”

“Mhhhh,” Cas replied, reluctantly moving his head enough so he could reply. “Been a while since we’ve indulged in this.”

Chuckling, Dean let those wonderful hands wander from his shoulders down his spine, sliding along the knots that formed along there.

“You know, I’m pretty sure there are professional masseuses in New York. People who have actually learned how to do this. Who know what to do beyond loosening a few tense muscles.”

“Maybe,” Cas replied with a grin. “But I prefer this.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean asked teasingly, leaning forward a little so that his weight pressed Cas just a little deeper into the mattress. “What exactly is it you prefer? This?”

His hands found Cas’ ass and glided over his cheeks before his fingers softly dug in, one finger following the line of his crack, almost disappearing between his legs before his hands vanished altogether.

“Or this?”

He leaned back over Cas, leaving open-mouthed kisses all along his neck and nape.

“How about this?”

One of his hands was back at his ass, freshly coated with almond oil, brushing teasingly near Cas’ entrance.

Cas was already panting, writhing beneath him from all the teasing.

“Come on, babe, help me a bit.”

Dean’s voice in his ear was something that would always, always drive him wild so it took him a moment to realize what Dean meant. As soon as he did, he wriggled and repositioned himself enough to get his arms free to reach back, spreading himself open so Dean could easily do as he intended.

“That’s it, good,” Dean breathed into the sensitive skin behind his ear, chasing his own words with kisses and nips. “Is this what you’d prefer over a professional massage?”

“Yes,” Cas panted out. “All of it.” 

He was so conflicted between his need to stay in his current position so Dean could easily open him up and his desire to turn around so he could steal a real kiss.

The decision was made for him the moment Dean’s finger breached him.

Groaning, he buried his head back into the pillow and canted his ass up. God, how he loved this feeling. Could never get enough of it. Of Dean doing this to him. Especially when Dean wouldn’t stop showering him with kisses and small, sensual bites here and there.

“Damn, I’ve missed you,” Dean groaned the next time his lips were close to Cas’ ear. “Missed those delicious noises. Missed tasting you, feeling you. Missed being with you. Like this.”

There was a second finger in him already and Cas was softly moving his hips in the same rhythm, barely enough to rub his cock against the mattress. Barely rocking enough to really press into the movement of Dean’s hand. It was a divine teasing. Those talented fingers, probing, stretching, searching. His cock against the bedding. Dean’s weight above him. Dean’s soft lips... which now ghosted along his neck and up his chin until Cas couldn’t take it anymore and moved his head. It was never the easiest position to kiss like this but it was always. so. worth. it. 

“Missed you, too,” he whispered between kisses, chasing Dean’s lips whenever he made to move on to kiss another part of Cas’ body. He wanted to reach one of his hands back to hold Dean’s head in place but that would require letting go of one of his ass cheeks and that he simply couldn’t do. 

Not when Dean chose that moment to finally hit his prostate. Cas groaned out, stopping his chase of Dean’s lips and sagging down into the bed as he gave himself completely to his desire of rutting into the mattress and fucking himself on Dean’s fingers with more and more abandon.

“Oh yeah?” he heard Dean’s voice, so full of mirth. “Did you miss _me_? Or just _this_?”

“Fuck you,” Cas whimpered out, unable to form anything more eloquent. Dean’s husky chuckle was not in the least bit helpful either.

“Na,” Dean replied, voice lower still. “Think I’d rather fuck _you_.”

With that, his – by now three – fingers disappeared, leaving Cas feeling empty and yearning for more. Letting go of his ass, he brought his arms back up, repositioning himself and cradling a pillow against his chest, letting Dean’s soft touch against his hip guide him, his legs spreading further to allow Dean room. When he felt the blunt head of Dean’s cock against his hole, Cas closed his eyes, savoring the moment, the feeling. 

The feeling of Dean slowly sinking into him again. Inch by delicious inch. 

The feeling of Dean filling him completely, of Dean blanketing him, breathing into his neck while he slowly rocked in and out of him, letting Cas adjust before making love to him in earnest. 

He loved these moments so much. Loved how careful Dean always was, how possessive. How he made sure to touch and caress and kiss, how he gripped Cas tightly, how present he always was, how Dean’s attention was solely on Cas, on their actions. How full of need Dean was for him. Cas loved these tender moments and how sometimes – if they really had the time – they lasted for hours.

But he also loved that moment when he could sense Dean becoming desperate himself; when Dean began focusing on _their_ pleasure and not simply Cas’ own. That moment when things shifted from slow, sensual rocking into a heavier, unrestrained rhythm. Cas simply loved that shift in energy.

Gripping the bedding for purchase, he lifted his ass further, intending to coax Dean into really fucking him. Instead, Dean momentarily slowed down and sat up, careful not to fully slip out of Cas. With sure hands, he pulled back on Cas’ hips, guiding him to his knees himself. Dean pushed forward and they shuffled up the bed enough so that Cas could reach and hold tightly onto the headboard.

Not a second too soon, as Dean was thrusting all the way back inside, the force rocking Cas forward until he was able to really brace himself. Dean’s hands were holding his hips in place now and for a good few minutes, he really did as he had promised, fucking him hard without restraint.

The room was filled with their pants and groans, the slapping of skin on skin and the creaking headboard that occasionally banged against the wall on a particularly hard thrust. Semi-silent swears and filthy spurs were mixed into it, all accompanied by the familiar thrum of classic rock.

Cas was pretty sure he had died and gone to Heaven.

The thrusts became jerkier, more and more they lost their rhythm – a clear sign that Dean was getting closer. His hands also began to wander, gliding up Cas’ back, slick by now not only from the remains of the oil but also sweat. He gripped his shoulders, giving his thrusts a whole new angle that made Cas honest to God _mewl_. 

They didn’t stay like that for long. As Dean’s hands kept moving, one slid all the way down his shaking arm until it reached his hand, gripping it tight and interlacing their fingers. The other went around his chest, brushing over his sensitive nipples briefly before it moved until Dean had his arm curled around Cas, pressing them even closer together as he leaned further over, pressing himself to Cas’ back.

“Love you, Cas,” Dean panted into his ear.

He wanted to respond, he really did. But Dean never stopped moving, his thrusts, while completely out of rhythm by now, were still strong, rendering him speechless and without coherent thought. All he could do was intensify the grip he had on Dean’s fingers and try not to let his quivering legs give out beneath him.

To make matters worse – or better, depending on the point of view – Dean kept biting at his shoulder, the arm around his chest flexing with every thrust. He was lost in all the sensations, panting in tandem with Dean. With a last shred of will, he released his free hand from the headboard and finally reached back, his fingers sinking into sweaty wet hair. He gripped tightly, not trying to pull Dean in, simply holding him in place.

Dean’s hold around his chest loosened, the hand slipping down instead and then Dean was stroking his cock, slow and sure and with just the right amount of pressure. Just the way Cas liked it and soon enough, he had him growling as Cas came all over Dean’s hand and the bed. 

Still floating in blissful delirium of post-orgasmic haze, it took him a moment to realize Dean’s thrusts had slowed down in an attempt to not overstimulate him while gently letting him ride out his orgasm. While he appreciated it, he made sure to rock back onto Dean’s cock as soon as he knew his knees wouldn’t give out from under him. 

At least not right away.

Dean’s moan was loud in his ear and quickly, his thrusts picked up in intensity again. It didn’t take long and Cas helped further along, tightening himself and thereby squeezing around Dean. Dean’s thrusts faltered completely until he came to a stuttering halt. His strangled groan was muffled as he pressed his face into Cas’ neck.

They stayed like that until their breath slowly evened out. Though it was only a few minutes, Cas was sure that he was only held upright by a miracle. However, he felt too drained to even put in the effort of moving away from the wet spot under him. Shifting and then stretching out on the bed? Yeah, way too much movement.

“How’s that for releasing tension?” Dean mumbled into his neck, his words slurring together.

Cas chuckled, rocking both of their bodies – and they moved in sync, letting themselves drop to the side to land on the soft bedding. Immediately, Cas turned and leaned into Dean’s side, snuggling into his embrace as he pressed a kiss to Dean’s sweat-covered skin.

“Pretty damn good,” he replied, joining in to Dean’s huffs of laughter. “And I love you too.”

~*~

Sauntering down the hallway, Cas pulled the shirt over his head and then brushed both hands through his hair in an attempt to get them back in order. He might have just rolled out of bed after being fucked into oblivion – but he didn’t need to _look_ it. Bad enough that he had to put on one of his shirts with a tighter neckline instead of a loose one. Sometimes, Dean really got a bit overexcited during sex, leaving marks all over his skin.

Again, not that he minded… he just didn’t want the evidence to show so clearly. It was also the reason he had taken the time for a thorough shower while Dean had just quickly scrubbed down the sweat and then went ahead and back into the kitchen. That was fine for him… but Cas really didn’t want to smell like ‘sex wrapped in almond oil – like a delicious Christmas cookie’ (Dean’s words, not his) for the rest of the evening.

Not when they were expecting Gracie home from her ballet lesson soon.

The delicious smell of dinner was already wafting through the house (hopefully drowning out the smell of wild afternoon sex even further) but Cas was surprised to pick out a sweeter note when he stepped into the kitchen area.

Vanilla and sugar.

He hadn’t even realized that Dean had gotten a batch of Angel Cookies done before he’d dragged him to the bedroom. But apparently he had and they must have been ready to go into the oven once Dean had gotten back to preparing dinner. 

His man was standing at the oven right now, checking one of the pots while softly whistling to a song playing on the radio. For a moment, Cas just stood there and took in the picture. 

There was no way of knowing if it was something he’d done in a former life or a deal he had made with whatever deity was out there. But he must have been a saint at one point or maybe his soul was bound for hell for the rest of eternity. Whatever it was, it was all so very worth it, being allowed to have this.

To have him.

To have this family.

Closing the distance, Cas stepped right next to Dean, who must have sensed his presence in the last second as he lifted his arm right away and pulled Cas further against his side. Cas loosely wound his arms around Dean, sighing in contentment as he felt him press a kiss against his head.

“Feeling better?”

Cas couldn’t suppress a grin. “Mostly sore,” he teased but hugged Dean closer when he rolled his eyes and tried to turn away. “But it’s a very, very good kind of sore. Very pleasant. You’ve probably fucked the writer’s block right out of me.”

“Caaaas,” Dean groaned, causing Cas to laugh for real, unable to stop until Dean quieted him with a kiss. “Shut up, you doofus,” he told him, voice full of affection and mirth.

They kept kissing, though without any sexual tension, simply enjoying the sweetness of the moment. They would probably have gone on for quite some time if it hadn’t been for the oven timer indicating that the first load of Angel Cookies was ready. While Dean swapped batches of cookies, Cas headed for the fridge to fetch some milk and start on a pot of hot chocolate for all of them to enjoy with dinner.

Moving around the kitchen together was a wonderful domestic feeling that warmed Cas’ heart in a different way than Dean’s words or even his kisses and touches did. 

Not that their tasks weren’t interrupted with plenty of those either, of course…

The hot chocolate was almost done when Dean moved away from the dinner stewing on the stove and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Cas.

“So,” he began, crossing his arms. “‘Bout that writer’s block…”

Instantly, Cas grinned. “What? You wanna know if you magically healed me from it with your sexual superpowers?” Looking up, he saw Dean roll his eyes while very badly trying to suppress a grin. “Not sure yet, but we’ll know once I sit back down.”

“Come on, Cas,” Dean finally stopped him, tone of voice more serious. “We both know the lack of sex wasn’t what caused this. That block was there before you even left for New York. And since I vividly remember a very satisfying morning of goodbye-sex… I’m fairly confident that wasn’t it.” 

There was a pause – one that Cas had no idea how to fill since he had no idea what to say – and then Dean went on.

“Cas, what is it? What’s blocking you so hard you can’t type?”

Switching off the stovetop he had used for the milk and putting down the hot chocolate, Cas thought about how to put his feelings into words.

“I’m not sure I’ll make sense. I’m not even sure I can pinpoint it…”

“Try.”

It wasn’t a command, not really. It was an offer. An offer for Dean to listen to what Cas had to say, giving him all the time he needed to find his words.

“When… when I started this story… When I wrote the very first book, I had a pretty clear picture where I wanted to take it. The story I mean. Like… all the books were more or less laid out.”

Dean nodded but didn’t interrupt.

“Right from the start, Zar, my uncle Raphael, and sometimes my aunt Amara were the only ones to give me feedback. After Raphael’s death, Amara stepped up more but she also had a lot to do with the publishing house she now had to manage alone. In short… Zar has always been my most trusted adviser and the only one to really give me feedback or to bounce ideas with.”

None of that was really important and Cas had a feeling he was drifting into rambling territory. But still, Dean didn’t interrupt, ever the patient listener.

“Right from the beginning, he was also the one to make sure that I wouldn’t ever get too deep into fan theories and fan wishes and the likes. Of course, he would show me some of the reviews – but all in all, Zar made sure I would never get influenced by what the _fans_ wanted so I could stay focused on what _I_ wanted. On the story _I_ wanted to tell.”

Cas paused to take a deep breath, searching for the words to continue his confession. But Dean seemed to have realized what he was struggling to say. 

“And then you met Gracie.”

“And then I met Gracie,” he agreed with a soft smile. “Gracie has changed… _everything_. In a good way, of course. She has made me rethink so many things, has made me view the stuff I write in different ways. Not necessarily to change the outcome, just… to realize the impact it could have.”

He chanced a glance at Dean, relieved to see a proud little smile on his lips. Never did Cas want Dean to think that Gracie was at fault for his writer’s block… even if in some very distant ways, she may just be – at least a small part of it. But he wanted Dean to see that her influence was the _good_ part in this. He went on.

“I don’t exactly _regret_ the way I’ve written and published the first few books. It is still the story I wanted to write. I just feel like… I mean… sometimes I look back, reread them, and… and I wonder how I would write them _today_. Not only how my writing style has grown but also if… discussing things with Gracie, listening to other fans… I don’t know if maybe some things would have been different right from the start.”

Staying silent for a moment, he tried putting his words in order, thankful that Dean gave him the time to. Apparently, it was clear he wasn’t done yet.

“I don’t want this to sound too cheesy but… this last year… this time with you, with Gracie, but also back with my family… all of it. It has changed me. And I _love_ that it did. I _love_ it, truly. I mean,” he huffed, a soft smile on his lips as he looked right at Dean. “How could I not?”

Dean smiled back at him, his gaze tender and full of love.

“But with all these changes… I feel I’m not the same person anymore who wrote these books, you know? I’m not that teenager anymore who first came up with a simple story idea. I’m not that… that ‘young whippersnapper’ anymore who wrote those first books. It feels… it feels like it’s the story I wanted to tell as a kid… but I’m not that kid anymore.”

He could see Dean’s lips flick in a grin at his unusual choice of words but otherwise, he didn’t comment on it, the situation clearly not the right one for joking. There was silence again but soon, Dean spoke up, probably picking up that Cas was done talking… for now.

“First off… you do know that your first books are still good, right? I mean, sure, yeah, one can see your growth as an author with every passing book, but that doesn’t mean that the first ones weren’t already great. You know that, right? Or do you need me to remind you of that?”

“No. No, I know that, I guess. I mean… you know I’m not a vain person, so I’m not going to say everything I ever wrote is pure gold. But… yeah, I know they’re still good books. That’s not the problem.”

“Good. So… what you’re actually saying the problem is… you’ve lost the connection to your characters?”

“I guess?”

Cas had to hug himself. He had felt it for a while now, had tried to avoid thinking it… but now it was out in the open. 

“I mean… maybe not really the characters _themselves_ but… these versions of them? I don’t know… am I even making sense?”

“Of course you do,” Dean reassured him, seemingly deep in thought. “And I see the problem. You still know where you want this story to go – you just don’t know _how_ anymore.”

“Yes, exactly. That and… well, actually typing it out.”

“Yeah, well. You’re far too deep in your head to really concentrate on typing right now. It makes sense. I bet every time you stare at that page, you see all the possible ways it _could_ go and then you can’t decide and it ends with you not even starting. Kinda like that?”

“Pretty much exactly like that, yes. And…”

“And?” Dean softly prompted.

Cas hadn’t even known there was an ‘and’ until he had spoken it out loud. But it felt so, so good to actually talk about this. With someone who didn’t try to just solve his problem like Zar would most likely do, but instead let him talk and listened, mostly just prompting him to get to the issue on his own.

So maybe it was no wonder that his biggest fear – deeply buried and hid away – now came tumbling out as well.

“And,” he began again, whispering. “Whichever way this goes… I don’t want Gracie to be disappointed with it.”

“Cas–”

“I know. You don’t have to say it, I _know_ she wouldn’t be. I know what she wants – I mean,” he added with a grin, “she’s told me often enough. And I know she probably won’t care how we get there. So, no, it’s not that. And I also know that I shouldn’t let that influence me. _I know_ all that. I mean, like… my _head_ knows… but… but…”

“But your heart still tells you something else.”

“ _Yes_! Is… is that crazy?”

“No,” Dean replied, a grin on his lips that didn’t make sense in Cas’ eyes.

Before he could think of what it meant, he rambled on.

“I mean, I know either way, some fans will like it and some will not – you can’t please anyone, right? That’s what you’ve always told us in class. A-and that _that’s_ why it’s so important to write the book _you want_. So that _you_ at least will be happy with it. That _you_ can stand behind your own work no matter what anyone else says. But… but ever since Gracie… Ever since I started this new book… it feels like… like…”

“Like you wanna write the book _she_ wants,” Dean finished softly.

“ _Yes_ ,” he breathed, deflating in the face of this enormous truth.

And how the heck could Dean know exactly what he had meant to say when Cas’ words didn’t make sense in his own head? And why was Dean grinning like that?

“Cas… do you want me to tell you why you feel that way?”

“By all means,” Cas replied. “Cause I sure as hell don’t get it. I know Gracie will be happy with whatever I do – and still I have this irrational fear of disappointing her. Why?”

“Because a parent always wants to see their kid happy.”

Cas had no idea how long he stood there staring at Dean, eyes wide, chin dropped. It was as if any coherent thought had been knocked out of him.

“Wh-wha… what?”

Chuckling, Dean finally pushed away from the kitchen counter and closed the short distance between them, standing right in front of Cas.

“You really didn’t notice, did you?”

“Dean, what–”

“You care so much for Gracie’s opinion… because you care for _her_. Not just as a best friend. Not just as the kid of your partner. You care for her the way a parent cares for their kid.”

Cas had to swallow, twice, and hard, before he was able to speak again.

“I mean… I… sure, I love her and, yes, I– I mean–”

“Cas?” Dean thankfully interrupted him, lifting his chin so Cas would look at him. “Just let it sink in. No need to analyze it.”

As he pressed a soft kiss to Cas’ lips, Dean didn’t seem surprised when Cas was unable to reciprocate, still too shocked about his words.

“Did I break you with that?” he jokingly asked but his green eyes did hold an ounce of worry as they flicked over his face. 

“Maybe?” Cas replied honestly but didn’t fight the soft smile forcing itself on his face. “Not really,” he finally amended. “Not the fact itself, just… hearing it like that. So- so this is how a father feels?”

“Wanting to bend the whole world so his princess will forever be happy? Absolutely.”

“Wow,” Cas breathed out, taking in this feeling. Really taking it in. “Wow, that… that’s so…”

“Scary?”

“Hell yes,” he exclaimed and the laughter they shared was such a relief, it felt as if a bubble of anxiety he wasn’t aware of had popped and he was finally able to relax somewhat.

Eventually, he let his arms sneak around Dean’s hips, loosely holding him in an embrace while he still pondered this new revelation.

“So… are _you_ still scared sometimes? That you’ll disappoint her?”

“All the time,” Dean admitted without hesitation.

“But,” Cas said, squinting at him. “She loves you. You’re her hero, her _Dad_. You could never disappoint her.”

“I know. Doesn’t change the fact that with whatever I do, I have my baby girl in mind and how it will affect her. How it will maybe disappoint her, or influence her view of me, or worse yet, how it may influence her own future. These are the normal thoughts of parents, Cas.”

Cas let it all sink in, not fighting it. He was glad Dean was here with him, his hand brushing over his back in a soothing motion. So far, Cas had never seen himself as a parent. Had never even thought about having kids of his own. And sure, he had known what it would mean to date a man who had a kid…

But ‘knowing’ and actually _knowing_ … were two so very different things.

“Sooo…” he finally breathed out. “How will all this help me get over my writer’s block?”

Dean seemed to really think about it but before he could reply, the door opened and with a gush of cold air, Gracie barreled into the house.

“Hiiiiii,” she called over to them, dropping her bag and her jacket to the floor and getting rid of her boots, all in one fluid motion and so quick, she was rushing over to them before either of them could even greet her back.

“Hey, pumpkin,” Dean finally called and a second later, she tackled them, joining their family hug.

_Family._

Cas had to swallow down a lump of emotions that threatened to choke him up. He watched Dean lean down to greet her with a kiss to the top of her head before ruffling her hair. Then her beaming smile turned to Cas and he was helpless not to return it.

“Hey, Gracie. How was ballet?”

“It was so great! I can’t wait for you to see the play this weekend. Are those Angel Cookies? Oh my God, Dad, you’re the best! Can I have some?”

Cas joined in Dean’s chuckle at Gracie’s usual display of too much energy when she was excited, hugging her close and giving her a kiss to the top of her head himself. Meanwhile, Dean shook his head.

“Dinner first. But it’s almost ready. How about you go and wash up?”

“Okay,” Gracie agreed right away, hugging first Cas, then Dean close. And just as quick as she had come in, she was gone, running down the hallway.

Leaving two very amused men in her wake.

When they heard her bedroom door close, Dean leaned in, softly brushing his lips against Cas’ temple.

“So… that connection you seem to be missing to your characters? That energy missing?”

“Yeah?”

“How about you tap into _her_ energy a bit. Might calm her down and jump-start your muse, eh?”

Cas looked at him with a barely contained grin. “‘Calm her down?’ You really think asking her to help me plot that one scene she wants to read most in my books will ‘calm her down’?”

“Wishful thinking?” Dean asked, faking seriousness.

“More like a drug-induced hallucination, but sure, let’s go with wishful thinking.”

That had them both laughing and Dean leaned in for a lingering kiss, holding onto Cas for a moment longer before slowly letting go of him to finally, finally get back to the dinner that was thankfully waiting patiently on the stove.

Meanwhile, Cas checked on the cookies and while the timer still said two minutes, he decided they were good enough to switch off the oven and let them rest in the remaining warmth for now.

As he cleaned his laptop from the kitchen island so he could set the table, Dean’s words played in his head on repeat. Not the ones about him already treating Gracie like his own daughter by putting her needs first – now, _that_ would take a bit to really let it sink in – but his idea of consulting her on the scene he was stuck on.

It wasn’t long until Gracie came back into the kitchen, somewhat calmed down, helping right away with setting the table. Cas made sure to heat up the hot chocolate again while Dean began filling their plates, both of them listening to Gracie chatter animatedly about her day, asking questions here and there and before they knew it, they were sitting around the kitchen island, enjoying dinner, hot chocolate, and each other’s company. 

“Caa-haas?”

“Yes, Gracie?”

Gracie took a big gulp of her hot chocolate, licking away the foamy mustache it left on her upper lip, before she asked with an innocent voice, “How’s writing going?”

For a moment, his eyes flicked up to Dean, who was looking at him as well. Cas had a feeling he could read in Dean’s eyes what he was thinking. While he was encouraging him, Dean made it clear that it was up to him. It was his decision of which way to go.

“Not so good,” he replied, eyes still on Dean so he could see the pleased smile spread over his face before Dean finished off his plate. Turning to Gracie, Cas went on. “In fact… I’m stuck on this one scene and I was wondering… would you be interested in helping me out?”

Gracie’s eyes went wide.

“You mean help you… _before_ you have even written it?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to help you _plot_ your story?”

“If you would want to, yes.”

Her reply wasn’t so much words as it was a high pitched squeal while she scrambled to her feet and threw herself into his waiting arms. He hugged her close, reveling in the warmth that spread through his chest from the happiness he felt seeing her so happy.

Being the one to make her this happy.

Over the top of her head, his eyes met Dean’s again and neither of them needed words to understand the emotions of that moment.

~*~

Later that night, Dean put down a fresh plate of Angel Cookies on the coffee table, followed by two mugs of hot chocolate, before kissing first Gracie, then Cas on the top of their heads, leaving them to their spirited discussion as he sat down at the other end of the couch, book in hand and a sappy smile on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

>  **DeanCas Bingo Card**  
>  _square filled:_ B2 "Writer!AU"  
> 


End file.
